A man... Old of age, was battered and broken under a pile of rubble... Once a proud paladin... Now a helpless man, barely alive, while having most of his bones broken and pieces of armor fragments stuck in his flesh... He was still breathing, even if there wasn't much air left underneath the load of rocks.... All his mind could think of were his memories.... The life he lived before flashed before his eyes...

First of, Ignasius Permato remembered of how he was living in one of the farms in Tirisfal at a young age... He remembered himself of a boy, age of ten, with short blond hair, running around the fields... Of how knights of Lordaeron traveling south inspired him... Shining armor, heavy shields and sharp longswords... Blue cloaks with the insignia of their kingdom draping from their shoulders... The boy wanted to be just like them...

After this, he remembered the birth of his brother... That time, Ignasius was a teenager, with muscles strenghened by the work in the farm, and the hair covering his ears... He was posted outside the farmhouse by his father to prevent him from seeing the suffering his mother had, during her complications... Even if he had not seen it, the pained screams were horrific... And then it was finally over... The screams of the boys mother have ended, following with a cry of a baby and a few moments later... A weep of his father... Ignasius opened the door, seeing mother lying in the bed, with blood on the sheets, and a calm, but frozen face... His father, Alvan was nearby, holding the crying baby... The man himself was utterly crushed... And it eventually led him to obsessive drinking.
This eventually turned to violence on the younger boys, and after weeks of living like that, Ignasius took his younger brother, whom he named Kirumis, and fled the house. Bare-feeted, he was holding his brother tightly and made his way along the cobblestone until he reached the Capital City of Lordaeron. There he had an uncle, named Clevan, who gladly took the two young boys under his wing.

The dying man then remembered of how he was recruited into the army of Lordaeron, when he has reached the age of fifteen, his appearance didn't change much, except his height and the length of his hair... It was the time of the Second great war between the Horde and the Alliance. Thinking this as a dream come true, he was excited, and gladly followed the soldiers along with other new recruits. After days of travel they reached their training camp. He and other recruits were given chainmail armor, wooden swords and wooden shields to train with. Weeks passed in painful and rather dull way... This was far from what Ignasius had imagined of army life... Finally, when the raw soldiers were ready, they were issued plate armor, kite shields, bearing the insignia of Lordaeron and longswords. They were being sent to Lakeshire, to prepare for the battle of Burning Steppes. And when the battle have started, it was different from how Ignasius imagined this all when he was a child. There, he was in a platoon of thirty men, mostly young as himself, lead by a paladin, named Afik Laukathor, a bald man, with a gray mustache and a scar running along the ride side of the face, across the eye, that was obviously missing. The man didn't bother to wear an eyepatch, and was fearless in battle as he was friendly during times of piece. The squad of mostly inexperienced young men, send into heat of battle against the brutal orcs, trolls and ogres who were faster, stronger and more skilled than the recruits there. The only one standing a chance against these creatures was the paladin, and that certainly proved true, as this group met a band of only ten orcs, who sliced most of the young recruits apart with their massive axes. Of course, when there were at least five young men finally getting over their fears and rising against a single brute, they managed to best the creature... Even if, with casulties. While the war veteran was fighting back orcs with his hammer, Ignasius and six other soldiers stood against one of the orcs... It roared with rage and charged, swinging an axe, and chopping a torso off one of the recruits. An axe swung a second time, another recruit lost a leg, and screamed in pain as he fell on the charred ground. This gave the others an opportunity to overpower the creature with their numbers and stab him relentlessly... And even this took another life. Soon after this, another orc charged into them grabbing one of the boys with one hand and crushing his head into the ground. The relentless beast continued his attacks, now with his axe... Ignasius seen the axe and raised his shield and the weapon struck it, breaking the shield, the boy's left arm and knocking him away, sprawling in pain. He saw the same orc killing others and then finally nearing him, raising his axe, but then falling down on the boy... Everything went black.
He woke up in a tent, all bandaged, and rendered not to move. Moans were heard around as well as prayers... He was still alive, even if in great pain. He saw priests walking around, and then finally noticing his leader, who was checking the survivors of this unit. After a talk with Afik, Ignasius found out that only four people of thirty survived, and one of them is now missing a leg for his life. Ignasius was actually in best shape, only broken bones, a nasty cut on the arm and a lot of bruises.
After a painful healing by the priests, Ignasius had another talk with Ser Laukathor, and asked him to take the boy as an apprentice for the path of the Light. The man accepted and became a mentor to the boy....

The memories went from the war... To the end of it... When he came back home after several years... Now a muscular man, with slight hints of beard and mustache, knocked on his uncle's doors. Clevan was overjoyed to see his nephew alive and shown him how Kirumis has grown... Now a child of seven years old, face similar to Ignasius' but hair was dark brown. It was a joyful memory for him... He gave his uncle gold he earned, for all the troubles and took his brother, returning to the farm they lived in.
As they reached the place, they saw an untended farm... Fields, overgrown with weeds, grass tall to the hips, and a rotten stench coming from inside the house. He left his brother outside and creaked the door open, noticing a rotting corpse of his father, sitting on the chair, head on the table and dried vommit as well. The floor was littered with empty bottles, and a lot of furniture around was broken. Ignasius cried... The joy he had earlier was gone.... The man carried his father's corpse behind the farm, where his mother was burried, and dug a hole for Alvan, placing it for an eternal rest near his wife...

The flashbacks of the old man returned him to a bright place.... He was in his late twenties, a thick and bushy beard circling his mouth, and long hair, reaching to his shoulders... A man was kneeling on a tiled floor, with sun shining down on him from the stained glass of the Northshire Abbey. A man in front of him was an Archbishop... And there was a crowd around him, paladins and priests alike... Ignasius opened his mouth and spoke the words that were final for him joining the Silver Hand... "By blood and honor we all serve". A young man came over from behind, placing a cloak with a silver fist painted on it. He then attached ceremonial shoulderplates on him and gave him a warhammer, the iconic weapon of these paladins. He saw his mentor in the crowd and he nodded with confirmation...

Now the man remembered the start of the scourge.... Reports of strange occurences in the villages of Lordaeron. Lots and lots of peasants came to Stratholme, looking for aid, which the knights gave, even if they were full-handed. Then he remembered of how Uther the Lightbringer himself mobilized all of his knights, including Ignasius to travel to Hearthglen, where crown prince of Lordaeron, Arthas Menethil was making his last stand. Near the leader of the Hand Ignasius recognized the Sorceress, who hailed from Kirin Tor. As the cavalery reached the town which once belonged to an exiled paladin, named Tirion Fordring, he saw hideous rotting creatures pouring from different sides of the gates, overpowering most of defenders of the town. There he saw prince Menethil holding his ground. The horn was sounded and a hundreds of knights clashed with their lances against the undead. Ignasius pierced a ghoul with his lance, as it shattered. He dropped the broken weapon and unsheathed his hammer, dismounting his horse and continuing the fight. After long hours and many losses, the battle was over, with stench of decomposing bodies around...
Even thus, after this they returned to the outskirts of Stratholme, where Arthas had shown his first signs of madness, by initiating the culling of the city and disbanding the order of the Silver Hand. Ignasius along with other members of the Hand didn't participate in it... But they did hear the stories of the masacre... And each of them didn't like the fact that none of them tried to stop the prince.
After hearing the news of how King Terenas was murdered by his son, Ignasius was shocked, and he couldn't believe it, along with other people in the realm. The Silver Hand acted and ordered several dozens of their knights to evacuate the most surviving villages and farms, and try to reach Stormwind. Ignasius, along with his mentor were one of them. They took Kirumis from the farm and started going through villages, seeing a lot of them burned and teeming with undead. They still managed to find over twenty survivors and started on their way, they went through the Silverpine forest, and in that road there were a lot of ambushes, that cost some lives, and one of them including Afik. After burning their dead, the survivors finally reached Southshore, and from there, they sailed to Stormwind...

Once again, old man's mind went to another memory, where he had already trained his brother to fight and the ways of the Light, and after that, they both have joined the Argent Dawn... An order that declined the racial differences and fought against the Scourge. Years of service to this order, Ignasius view towards the other races have changed, and he started tolerating orcs and trolls, and even making friends with them.
With the return of Tirion Fordring, and forming of the Argent Crusade, the both brothers were sent to Icecrown, and there, wearing fur under heavy armor and then fur over the same armor, they were still gripped by the cold. But the two brothers were part of the Argent defenders. Ignasius, now in his fourties, with a few scars on his face, a few stray gray hairs was wielding a longsword, named Justice and an elven round shield, named Mercy. His brother, a handsome man in his thirties, a cleanly shaved chin, was wielding a heavy claymore with a silver hilt. Both were holding the camps against hordes of undead, and both participated in the Tournament. Ignasius was a great jouster, yet there were people far better than him. When the Icecrown Citadel was attacked by heroes, the two brothers were one of the rear guard, who protected the entrance from undead that tried to get into the citadel... And after the fall of the Lich King, the brothers returned to Stormwind. Ignasius still remained a crusader, while his brother retired and started a family. He build a house in Southshore and even had a child, who was then send to his older brother for training.

Ignasius thoughts returned him to the time of greatest grief... He was now older... hair has completely grayed out, and his head started to bald, his beard was at least twenty centimeters long, and despite his age, he was still very muscular and always remaining in his proud pose... He quit the Crusade... While being in Hearthglen, he was approached by a messenger, bearing the news of how the Forsaken had destroyed the same town his brother was living in. He was worried. He tried to convince the Argents that the Forsaken are just as evil as the Scourge... Worse even, extremely cunning and just as merciless. This was rejected by the command, and the old man ripped off his tabard and walked off. He did managed to gather several followers, along with them there was an orc, who despised the Forsaken, three dwarves, four humans and a high elf. They were a small brotherhood who worked outside the Horde and Alliance and were warring against the forsaken. They found home in a cave in the mountains of Arathi Highlands, where they gave a lot of headache to the undead, trying to defend the wall that was seperating Hillsbrad from the Arathi, even if unsuccessful. They were still doing damage to the supply caravans of the Forsaken, until the cave this small brotherhood was, had been discovered... It was a bloody battle, but the men managed to hold their ground. Two of the humans a dwarf and the orc have been killed, but this attack had been repelled...
However, the cave was infiltrated by a forsaken demolition expert, who rigged the cave with explosives and made it collapse. A human and two dwarves were killed in the blast, and the survivors were running towards the exit, rocks were rumbling all around, but they did see the light coming out of the end of the tunnel. The surviving human and a dwarf were the first ones to make it out, and Ignasius along with the high elf were still running. Ignasius tripped, and fell, the elf helped him to stand up, then suddenly the ceiling rumbled. Old man acted fast, as he grabbed the Quel'dorei and threw him out of the cave, while the rocks caved in on the paladin.... This brought him to this very moment where he was lying... The pain was so bad, that he couldn't even scream... He breathed hard for a while, blinking his eyes, rapidly as the dust had made their way in there. He could feel his chainmail broken, and the pieces of his plate armor stuck in his flesh. He couldn't move... Pain, broken bones and the weight of the rubble kept him from doing that. The man released his last breath and let himself away... His soul had been departed from the now lifeless husk, that remained under the rubble... Ignasius was dead.